Drawn to revenge
by Missing Fairy
Summary: Something which happened during Hotch's SWAT days comes back to haunt him and Reid falls victim. Reid is captured and tortured in the hope he will break and kill himself like his captor's son did years ago.
1. Crash

"_**Drawn to Revenge**" chapter 1- **Crash**…  
_  
_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, although I wish I did. No profits have been made by this story._  
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Reid was tired. There was no other word for it.

After several late shifts at the BAU, one after the other with little to no sleep in between, all he wanted to do was have a hot shower in his little apartment and go to bed; sleeping hunched over his desk was not comfortable.

It had been a tough case to break; an amoral rapist out to seek revenge on women who resembled his mother when she was a younger woman; red hair, athletic body and warm-hearted (he lured them into his car by pretending to be injured and needing help with groceries). Three women were killed, two more in a vegetative state and one who had escaped before he could do any real damage.

Reid decided he needed to call his family at some point, visit his mother in the sanitarium; talk to his sister who was living in England… bad cases really open your eyes. Everybody thinks it could never happen to them or someone close to them- then again, not many people would actually go around with a sign above their head that said 'capture me, rape me, beat me and kill me!'

He stopped in front of his apartment door, idly wondering how he managed to enter the building, go up the stairs (he didn't like the elevator; too claustrophobic for his liking) and find his apartment both without him realizing it or bumping into anything.

He rubbed his neck wearily before rummaging in his bag for his keys.

He stepped inside and vaguely surveyed what had become of his apartment over the passed days; everything was in order, just as he had left it, however, a smell permeated from the trash can in the kitchen which bringing to his attention that he had missed trash day and had Chinese food some days ago.

He sighed and set his things down on the kitchen bench-top before quickly going to the refrigerator, pulling out a quarter of a lemon and squeezing it over the trash in the hope it would help reduce the horrible stench; unfortunately he also had a paper-cut on his finger and the lemon juice made it sting.

He was far too tired for this; throwing the squeezed lemon in the bin he washed his hands and tidied up what needed to be before making his way into the bathroom. Standing under the hot water, he massaged his aching neck and hoped there wouldn't be another period of time like the one he had just had.

He put his folded, dirty clothes into his washing hamper and walked towards his bedroom.

When they captured the bastard who tortured the women, Gideon told Reid to interview him; they had enough physical evidence to put him away but a confession would seal the deal.

_Reid entered the room with fake confidence and sat in front of the murderer. They sat there for a few minutes, in silence, assessing each other and the situation._

"_You going to say anything or are we just going to glare each other all God-forsaken night?" the man growled; he was forty-five, tall and muscled and could quite easily have snapped Reid in half. _

_Reid shrugged lightly; he was trying to ignore the clenching feeling in his stomach._

"_I-I'm just trying to figure out how you got away with it for so long, Mr. Howl," he said simply._

"_What do you mean?" the bigger man asked, menacingly, catching Reid slightly off guard._

"_W-well, the murders were done quite sloppily; e-each one was like your first and you were a classic Raskolnikov; you attempt to be an existentialist and yet you gave yourself away by worrying what the media was saying about the crimes," Reid pulled out a folder full of newspaper clippings of the case. "'Forcefully done with no real planning… the work of an amateur…' you let the comments consume you so much after the first two killings that you attempted to prove them wrong by committing more. Then, when your third victim escaped and you weren't caught, it became an anti-climax for you when you weren't captured straight away so you became arrogant and killed three women and then returned to the scene of the crime; you were far too incompetent to be able to get away with it," Reid had grown more confidence as he went along but one look at the seething man made him worry._

"I just need to stay calm_," he thought. "_Don't let him get to me_,"_

_Howl lowered his head but kept eye contact with Reid and slammed his hands down on the table. Reid jumped slightly. _

"_You smart-arsed little freak," he spat. "Those bitches got what they deserved and so did my mother; they're all whores who contributed nothing to society so I deftly took care of them. The papers say I planned nothing but they just didn't know I researched each of the sluts before I captured them; I knew their weaknesses and deepest fears," his voice had lowered to a menacing hiss. "You think you're so God-damned clever, don't you, you little son-of-a-bitch? Well, I can see through you like you were glass- freakin' glass! You're a little freak who will never be loved by anyone because he's too freakin' scared of his own freakin' shadow!"  
Before anything else could be said, Gideon, Hotch and Morgan entered the room._

"_Thank you, Mr. Howl, for that enlightening speech," Hotch said. "I'll be sure to play the recording at your sentencing,"  
Howl glared at Reid and Hotch and Morgan dragged him away, Morgan winking at Reid, which was as close to 'good job' as Reid would get from him._

"_Good job, kid," Gideon said to Reid, who was still seated._

_Reid gave him a half-smile, already forgetting the comments made by the serial rapist, focusing more on the fact that he had made Howl confess; it felt good. _

"_Thanks,"_

Reid sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, making sure his alarm was set for nine the next morning. He was thankful there was no pending case; he had the luxury of eight and a half hours sleep.

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There was a loud crash in the kitchen and Reid sat up in bed, his heart pounding in his chest almost as loud as the blood pumping through his ears. A wave of adrenaline swept through him as various explanations flew through his head. Had a cat somehow slid in through a window? Was there a burglar- a careless one at that?

He soundlessly slipped out of bed and pulled his gun out of the holster sitting on his bed-side table, dread settling in the pit of his stomach; there was another loud crash, almost identical to the last. He stepped through into the kitchen and saw a man standing there in plain view, wearing gloves and a beanie, smashing his plates one by one.

"Ah, Doctor Reid, finally pulled yourself out of bed to investigate, I see?" a smooth voice said, as calm as though he were asking for the time.

Reid pointed his gun directly at the stranger's chest, though knowing his poor aim, it could end up anywhere.

"What are you doing here?" he asked forcefully with more confidence than he felt, his voice only shaking slightly. Truth be told he was terrified; how had the man got in without waking him? More to the point why was he there, standing in the middle of Reid's kitchen, smashing crockery?

"Now is not the time for _that_ little tale, Doctor," the man said with an inclination of his head towards Reid, placing down the plate he was originally going to smash. "Oh, but my, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Donald Grey, I am… _an acquaintance_ of Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,"

"What do you want with him?" Reid asked, gripping his gun tighter, preparing himself to pull the trigger should the situation arise and from his perspective, the situation seemed to be arising; the fact that the man revealed his name to Reid was an indication of any three things; A- he didn't care if he was caught, B- Reid wasn't going to be alive to reveal his name to anyone or C- both.

Grey gave a chuckle, stepping towards Reid who backed away.

"My dear boy," he grinned maliciously. "It's what I want with _you_ that's the issue here…"

Grey leapt at Reid and ripped the gun from his grasp before he could pull the trigger. Once he had Reid pinned he pulled out a syringe and injected it directly into his neck. Reid's fighting muscles slackened to the point where he could not move and his eyelids dropped despite his resistance.

"My, my, my… you're not much of a shot and your reflexes are poor, especially for an FBI agent, but you have a lot of spirit… You're going to be fun to _break_…" Grey whispered in his ear as cotton wool filled Reid's head and all his senses failed.

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**Author's note:**

Hey, what did you think? This is my first _Criminal Minds_ fan fiction and I hope you like it! This is a short chapter compared to the ones which are yet to be posted, so please don't be deterred by the lack-of-length. There may be questions resulting from this chapter, but I promise, all will be revealed next time! Please tell me what you think but please don't flame me!

°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.° _Missing Fairy_ °.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°


	2. Search

"_**Drawn to Revenge" **chapter 2- **Search  
**_**  
_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own _Criminal Minds_ or any of the characters except for the villain, Donald Grey. No profit has been made from this work of fiction.****_

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The following day at the BAU would be a day of paperwork and vast amounts of concentrated caffeine in the form of coffee.

Gideon sighed and stared at the report he was doing without really seeing it. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair to stretch his back, grabbing his coffee mug to finish the dregs, realising all too late that it was stone cold and was forced to swallow the distasteful substance. He had known from the moment he had woken up that it would be a bad day; he had stubbed his toe on his bed post, walked into the door frame and been out of bread, cereal and other such foods and so was forced to eat _soup_ for _breakfast_.

Hotch's day had started out in a similar fashion; he and Haley had a minor argument about his work hours and the fact he wasn't seeing his son growing up. However, they had made up before leaving; they had decided right after they were married that they would never say goodbye angry, especially during the period of time that Hotch worked in SWAT which wasn't exactly a desk job. He rolled his neck from side-to-side; only three hours of doing paperwork and he was already developing a headache.

He looked up to ask Reid a question about the case file, only to find the person in question wasn't at his desk.

"Hey, where's Reid?" he heard Morgan ask as he craned his neck around to see if Reid was in the coffee room or coming out of the elevator. Reid wasn't a loud person so it was highly plausible he could have been there for hours without anyone realising it, especially because it was a paperwork day as there was no demand for conversation.

"I was just about to ask the same thing," Gideon said, setting down the file he was reading. He had a look on his face somewhere caught in between bemused and worried; they would have liked to have thought that Reid had slept through his alarm and was running late, but that _never_ happened; he was too left brain dominant.

"I'll call his cell," Hotch said, reaching for the landline phone which was on his desk. After a while he hung up. "No answer,"

"He might have it switched off," Elle offered. "Or it could be out of charge and he not realise it,"

Gideon gave an indecisive shrug; something didn't quite feel right.

"When ever have you known Reid to be three hours late?" he proposed and no-one had an answer; any absences were all to their prior knowledge and planned.

"Someone can go to his apartment; maybe he slept in and we have nothing to worry about but if something's up… well, we'll discuss that if and when we come to it," Hotch designated. "Morgan and Elle; would you mind?"

They both nodded, grabbing their jackets and checking that their guns were in their holsters, and made their way out of the building.

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Reid awoke to blackness and being unable to move.

_"Am I dead?"_ he thought for a moment but then his reasoning kicked in and he realised he wouldn't be able to feel the rope around his wrists and ankles and the duct tape on his mouth if he was, in fact, dead.

He winced as he moved his head and brought his tied hands up to him head and felt a gash near his hair line.

He could feel his surroundings very near to him; he was in an enclosed space. The one thing Reid despised (and feared) more than enclosed spaces was being in an enclosed space and not knowing how you got their and what was surrounding you. He felt his breath quicken and his pulse race.

_"Calm down!"_ he screamed at himself. _"You can barely breathe as it is, don't make it worse by having a panic attack!"_ he closed his eyes (not that it changed anything; he was in pitch black anyway), concentrated on slowing his breathing down and ignored his surroundings by recounting facts and statistics in his head.

He felt his body move to his left.

_"Inertia?"_ he mused. _"I'm in the trunk of a car?"_ he realised that the road must have been a flat, straight run at a constant speed. _"Or I'm still experiencing the effects of the sedative,"_ he considered.

There was a click from above and the boot flung open to reveal a man staring down at Reid with a smirk on his face. Reid squinted against the bright light and recognized it must have been in the afternoon.

"Did you have a pleasant trip?" Grey inquired like a receptionist at a five-star hotel and he roughly grabbed Reid's upper arm and pulled him out of the boot. As soon as Reid had his feet planted on the ground his knees gave way and he grazed his arms on the gravel as he broke his fall with bound arms. He heard a chuckle.

"Yes, you won't have much strength for a fair while," Grey said with an almost-gloating sneer. Reid glared up at him and attempted to rise without much luck, only being able to get up on his knees.

Grey chuckled again.

"You're weak as a kitten," he said, looking down on Reid.

"_He's attempting to intimidate me,"_ Reid thought with a glare.

Grey reeled back his arm and hit Reid in the face that sent him to the flat of his back with a groan in his destabilized state. Grey bent down and slung Reid over his shoulder, carrying him towards a large, isolated house.

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"Hey, Reid!" Morgan yelled, knocking loudly on the apartment door. "Reid! No time to sleep in, man, open up!"

"Something's not right," Elle said worriedly. She looked around the door for a place where a spare key could be hidden. Her eyes were drawn to something on the door frame. "Morgan, look," she said, gesturing. There was a small smear of blood.

"Okay, I think this is enough evidence to get inside," Morgan claimed, throwing his upper torso at the door. One of the hinges came off and with a strong kick, the other on followed, leaving the door smashed against the wall.

They observed the scene before them. There was broken crockery all over the floor as well as a small pool of blood.

"What the…?" Morgan began, looking wide-eyed around the room.

"Morgan, look," Elle pointed at the counter where a plain envelope was resting against a bowl. Written on the exact centre of it were the carefully scripted words: _Special Agent Aaron Hotchner_.

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Grey had taken Reid into the house and down a flight of stairs into a cold cellar where his hands were shackled above him. Reid noted that the shackles were clean and rust-free; Grey had been planning this.

The captor reached down and ripped off the duct tape on Reid's mouth. Reid stretched his jaw and licked away the blood which had formed on his lips.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here?" Grey stated with an inclination of his head before he dragged a metal chair to Reid's feet and sat on it casually.

Reid nodded with a glare.

"You see, Dr. Reid, seven years ago, my son, Grant, was in trouble; he had a cocaine addiction and needed help. Unfortunately, he was so dependant that he could not see his problem.  
"Grant was fired from his job and I cut off his funds. In pure desperation, he held up a bank and kept the staff and customers as hostages. He had stolen a gun and was using that to keep people from leaving or coming in. Grant was a good boy, Dr. Reid, and I want you to understand that. After a few hours in the bank, a SWAT team was sent in to disarm him and release the people. Can you take a guess at who the main negotiator of that team was, Dr. Reid? Can you guess at who was the last person to speak to my son?" Donald Grey glared at him and awaited his answer. After waiting a few moments, Grey answered for him. "Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Dr Reid. He told my son to let the people go or they were going to have to do it by force. My son, feeling cornered, held the gun to his head, right here," he said, leaning across and prodding Reid under his chin. "And blew his brains across the hostages the SWAT team were trying to save," Grey's calm demeanour had become quite agitated and angry by this stage and he was now glaring at Reid intensely. "Special Agent Aaron Hotchner forced my son to kill himself, Dr. Reid,"

"No, he didn't," Reid said quietly, his throat dry. "He was doing his job and your son was breaking the law and holding innocent people hostage; there are things leading up to the event which could have prevented that and therefore eliminated the need for your son to attempt to rob a bank in the first place. The person who introduced him to drugs, his dealer, his employer for firing him…"

"Myself for cutting his funds?" Grey added. "I could indeed blame them or myself, but for now, I'll settle for you; plus, you assume I haven't taken out revenge on them already," he stated, back to his calm behaviour.

Reid felt hot fear in the pit of his stomach; to Grey, everything he is doing is justified.

"And that's where you come in," Grey said forebodingly. "You see, Dr. Reid, it would be unjust of me to take Special Agent Aaron Hotchner's life as he took my _son's_ life, not my own. He needs to feel the pain of the loss, not inflict the pain of his loss on others," he explained darkly. "And I could not take the life of his newborn as its mother would miss it; I was a single father of Grant and his sister, Julie. You have no parents; your father abandoned you at eleven years of age and your mother is so delusional she doesn't even know who _she_ is, let alone you, anymore and you, too, have a sister to mourn your loss," Grey paused for a moment. "I'm not going to kill you, Dr. Reid, for Special Agent Aaron Hotchner did not actually pull the trigger; what I'm going to do is pick away at you, until you have nothing left to live for and you kill yourself with this," he placed a small container with a single capsule inside it. "I assure you, Dr. Reid; death will come quickly and relatively painlessly once you bite down on that,"

And with that, Donald Grey, turned off the light and left the room and Reid in darkness.

Reid was terrified.

"_So, all you have to do is not kill yourself,"_ Reid reassured himself. _"You can do this,"_

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**Author's note:** Hey readers (God, I love saying that)! Thank you so much for the reviews! They are so greatly appreciated! Sorry for the update delay! I'll try to be quicker from now on! This chapter is slightly longer than the previous and they will (hopefully) progressively get longer as I go along.

Please read and review; I want to hear what you think!

Love to all!

°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.° _Missing Fairy_ °.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°


	3. Pain

"_**Drawn to Revenge" **chapter 3- **Pain **_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Criminal Minds_ or any of the characters in this work of fiction except for the villain, Donald Grey. No profits were made in the creation of this work._

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Reid's head snapped up at the sound of a door slamming open against the wall. Heavy footsteps proceeded and he blinked painfully as light suddenly flooded the room with the flick of a switch. Reid estimated that he had been in the room for about six hours. His shoulders ached and back throbbed as his arms were positioned above his head at such an angle that he was virtually hanging by the rough restrains.

Grey sat in the chair once more and pulled out a small pill bottle from the leather bag he had brought in with him. He shook the bottle in Reid's face, revealing it to be a powder.

"Care to take a guess at what I will be administering your system?" Grey asked mildly, not expecting an answer. "This, Dr. Reid, is Carisoprodol; would you happen to know what that is?"

Reid nodded, definitions automatically running through his head.

"Well?" Grey cued, smirking. "You're usually such a know-it-all, Dr. Reid, why so quiet?"

Reid glared up at him.

"Carisoprodol is a colourless, bitter, crystallised powder which is used in the treatment of hypertonia and in pain management. It is mostly soluble in water and fully soluble in alcohol, chloroform and acetone. It can cause people to get to a state where they are on the verge of sleep but not actually in non-REM or REM sleep, also known as somnolence; ataxia- which is the unsteady, clumsy motion of limbs due to incoordination of muscle movements; anterograde amnesia or any combination of the three in even the slightest variation in dose. It has a half-life of eight hours but any negative symptoms dissipate between two to four hours," Reid recited monotonously, as thought from a text book, sighing. He knew what was coming and he hated the fact that he could do nothing about it besides resist for as long as possible.

"Very good; nice to know that photographic memory isn't going to waste," Grey stated, taking a bottle of clear liquid out of his bag and tipping the crystallised substance into it with a small, plastic funnel. "Now, Dr. Reid, this is what is going to happen; I have just added Carisoprodol to this bottle of water and you will drink it or face the consequences. Do I make myself clear?" he said darkly.

When Reid didn't respond, Grey capped the bottle and shook it vigorously, then, swirling it, held it up to look at it underneath to see if any of the drug had settled at the bottom.

"Open your mouth," Grey stated simply once satisfied with what he saw in the bottle.

Reid glared at him.

"Open your mouth," the older man repeated with a slight edge to his voice.

When Reid, again, did not respond, Grey stood up and forced Reid's mouth open. Reid struggled but due to the restraints, he had limited movement and he could not fight back. Grey forced his head back with his right hand and poured the drugged liquid in with the other.

"Swallow or drown, Dr. Reid, your choice," Grey growled, not relinquishing his firm hold on Reid's head. Reid instinctively swallowed the liquid. It burned his throat as it forcefully passed his oesophagus. Grey repeated the process until the bottle was drained. After a few moments, the side-effects had kicked in and Reid could barely lift his head; his eyes closed but he was still fully aware of his surroundings and his mind was still processing information at his normal rate. He could no longer move his arms or legs efficiently and could not resist the restrains.

"_Two out of the three side-effects," _he thought. _"At least some of the pain's gone,"_ he added.

"Very good, Dr. Reid," the older man said smoothly.

Grey left the room without another word and returned moments later with a bulky, long bag. He rested the bag on the floor and unzipped the top, pulling out a large, metal rod.

"Care to guess what I'm going to do this?" the man said softly.

Reid forced his head up and his eyes open slightly, being able to sustain the strength for only a moment, before his head dropped back down to his chest.

He groaned slightly as his response.

"Oh, and I should note that I added a mild sedative to that mixture as well, hope you don't mind," Grey said with a smirk. "I know you are not meant to mix drugs but I took a leaf out of Special Agent Hotchner's book and _took a risk_,"

Grey brought the rod above his head and brought it down on Reid's torso. Reid was unable to resist the pain resulting from the blow, but he refused to cry out. Grey brought it down on his body repeatedly until his torso was covering in slender bruises and, in a majority cases, gashes.

"Can you feel this pain, Dr. Reid?" Grey asked, slightly out of breath. "This is what my son felt on the inside through every day of his addiction; get used to it because eventually it will lead you where it led him,"

With that, Grey wiped the blood off the rod with a cloth and replaced it into the large bag. He picked it up along with his smaller bag and exited the room, turning off the lights, leaving Reid alone in the dark with nothing but the pain to keep him company.

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"What went on there?" Hotch asked anxiously upon his agents' return.

"No idea," Morgan said with a frustrated sigh. "There were broken plates and some blood and…" he broke off.

"And…?" Hotch prompted impatiently.

"There was a note… addressed to you," Elle finished, exchanging a glance with Morgan. "It's free of fingerprints," she added; they had that checked immediately, but it was a dead end. She passed Hotch the enveloped letter in an evidence bag.

With a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach, he opened the letter with a slight tremor to his hands.

The letter was written with the same clear, concise script Hotch's name had been on the envelope.

Hotch stared at the folded letter for a few moments.

"_What are you doing?"_ he said to himself. _"Read it_…_"_

_**Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,**_

_**My name is Donald Grey, I daresay you would remember me from a few years back- you should at least remember my son. **_

_**Grant was a good boy with troubles. He was addicted to drugs and he had no way out; borrowing money from people and petty theft stopped cutting it, so he resorted to bank robbery.**_

_**That is where you came in.**_

**_You barged through that bank door with your SWAT team wearing protective gear like he was a crazed bomber. He was a boy, Special Agent Hotchner; my boy. You cornered him and he had no where to turn so he held the gun up to his chin and pulled the trigger. You pushed him to his death. You pushed_ my son_ to his death. _**

_**Now it is my turn.**_

_**I have in my possession one of your agents, Doctor Spencer Reid. I am doing to him exactly what you did to my son; pushing him to the point of suicide. **_

_**I wonder how many days of dehydration, starvation and pain he will last before his takes the little capsule I gave him. I did not give him a gun; I am not stupid.**_

_**Try as you might to find him you will not and when he is dead, it will be on your hands, not my own.**_

_**An eye for an eye will make the world go blind, Special Agent Hotchner, but in this case I will make an exception.**_

_**I will be in touch.**_

_**Donald Grey.**_

_Hotch stopped reading and for a few moments his mind was blank but then his thought were filled with images of Donald Grey, Grant Grey and, more to the point, Reid._

He numbly handed the letter to Gideon who read it aloud.

"_Why Reid?"_ Hotch asked himself. Then it came to him. _"In Grey's eyes he's the equivalent to my son, in his basic characteristics; age, some physical attributes, introverted… it solidifies the idea. He couldn't kidnap my own son because they aren't alike enough," _he thought. _"Plus, Reid has the capability to fight back and choose… he has the ability to end his life…" _the thoughts sickened Hotch and it settled in the pit of his stomach directly next to the bubbling anger.

"This- this is sick," Morgan muttered, pulling Hotch out of his trace-like state. Even with all the distasteful things he had seen, this touched a nerve with Morgan.

"So, because you happened to be in the SWAT team that entered the bank Grey's son was robbing and then he shot himself, he's holding you accountable? Does that mean this could turn serial and go after people who are close to the other team members too?" Elle said with a frown.

Hotch shook his head.

"No; the other team members weren't the ones who were negotiating with him,"

"_Grant, calm down; we can get out of this without anyone getting hurt, just place the gun on the ground and slide it over to me," Hotch reasoned, his gun at eye level. _

_Grant growled in frustration._

"_If you'd just give me the money I wouldn't have to do this!" he yelled, flinging his arms in the air. He was jumpy and nervous._

"_Come on, Grant, just let the innocent people go, we can talk about this," Hotch insisted, slowly edging forward. "We can get you into a rehab program; no one has been killed today and if you give up voluntarily the court will go easier on you,"_

"_And if I don't give up voluntarily what will happen? Are you going to shoot me?" Grant hissed loudly, gritting his teeth._

"_Don't hurt these people, Grant," Hotch insisted, avoiding the question; if Grant really didn't give up voluntarily and was going to hurt someone he would have no choice._

_Grant shook his head violently and paced quickly._

"_Oh no, I'm not falling into any of your mind games; I'm sick of this!" Grant said angrily. He began waving the gun over the heads of the crouched hostages. Hotch stepped forward suddenly. Grant backed away towards the captives and held the gun under his chin._

"_Have it your way," Grant said with finality. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. With a loud crack, blood and brain matter sprayed over the hostages and his lifeless form crumpled to the ground._

Hotch heard Gideon make a noise in his throat and he looked up to see the older profiler examining the letter.

"He honestly believes what he's currently doing is the only way to do things," Gideon muttered loud enough for the team to hear. "And he's confident; he says things like 'Try as you might to find him you will not' and knows it to be the truth; everything is rationalised in his head,"

"He has a criminal record for assault so we can air his photo and information," Hotch said, his voice void of emotion.

"Who did he assault?" Elle asked, leaning against her desk.

"The officer who told him what happened to his son," Hotch explained. "He beat the hell out of him,"

"Yeah, but that's a crime of passion, not cold, calculated planning like what he did to- what he's done now," Morgan said, correcting himself, not wanting to admit either to himself or the team that Reid was in a life-threatening situation.

Hotch shook his head.

"Grey didn't do it when he was told," he stated then paused, seemingly unable to put into words what he wanted to say. "He waited for the man to leave work after a graveyard shift and beat him with a crowbar next to the officer's own car, leaving him there for someone to find him,"

"How come he didn't get any jail time?" Elle asked.

"He had a very good attorney," Hotch said plainly with a grimace.

"And now that guy has Reid," Morgan stated after a pause.

Hotch nodded.

"Seems to be the case,"

"But, he already said, he's not going to kill Reid, we still have time to find him," Morgan stated with a note of desperation.

"There's a lot you can do to someone without killing them," Gideon said gravely, placing the letter down.

"We need to find him," Hotch said firmly. His thoughts were running at a tremendous speed and he realised that it was only the beginning.

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**Author's note: **Hey all! Yay! Third chapter! Break out the champagne…! Or not… Anyways, hope you like! I'm really appreciating the reviews and I'd like to thank everyone! I'll make a list of reviewers in the fifth chapter (why fifth? I don't know, just seems like a good, round… euh… uneven number…?) But a special thanks to Anaria who has been awesome.

Oh, and thanks for pointing out typos; I tend to write my best between the hours of 12-4am but that also means when I proof-read I tend to miss things, so sorry! But please don't flame me for them, I'm actually reasonably good with spelling and grammar, but everyone makes mistakes!

Also, in the first chapter, my beta-reader changed a term that was actually originally correct, but the mistake has been rectified.

Sorry for the long time between updates, but unforeseen things occurred and have been corrected; the Universal balance is back in order and I will endeavour to update faster!

Anyways, please keep reading; I swear it will get more interesting and involved and… yeah, you get the idea!

Have fun!

Love to all!

°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.° _Missing Fairy_ °.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°


	4. Draw

"_**Drawn to Revenge" **chapter 4- **Draw** _

_**Disclaimer: **I own nothing; I wish I could own _Criminal Minds_ and its characters, but I, unfortunately, do not. I do, however, own this twisted plot line and the villain. No profits were made in the making of this work of fiction. _

_--------------------_

_"Have it your way," _

The words had haunted Hotch ever since that day. He had tried to resolve the situation peacefully but it had ended in the exact opposite manner. He knew he was doing his job and he knew he hadn't done anything wrong; everything was by the book and everyone told him so; some even commended him on his handling of the situation- all the hostages and SWAT team were alive, after all. But this did not stop the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that something else could have been done. If he had done something different, Grant would still be alive and Reid would not be in the hands of a madman.

--------------------

Spencer Reid weakly looked up as Donald Grey entered the room stridently. The man stormed across the room with heavy footsteps; he carried his large bag and a tripod with an already-attached video camera in his hands. He released Reid from his bindings; the younger man weakly leaned against the wall and attempted to lower his arms from below his head; his shoulders and back were cramped severely. The only act of kindness was that Grey had allowed him to keep his clothes on to keep the smallest amount of extra heat within his body.

"Ready, Dr. Reid?" Grey asked pleasantly from where he sat after he had set up the tripod and started recording with the camera.

_"Ready for what?"_ Reid thought as he looked up at Grey worriedly. He did not answer.

Grey smirked and zipped open the bag which was sitting beside him. He pulled out a rather large knife and examined it in his hands, the blade catching the artificial light.

"Turn around, Dr. Reid," he said quietly, his eyes still on the weapon in his hands. "And remove your shirt,"

Reid did not do so, eyeing the knife apprehensively whilst absently rubbing his raw wrists.

"We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Dr. Reid; I have already told you I will not kill you but should you disobey me I will stab you non-lethally to help the process along," Grey said in an even voice, glaring at him. "Now; _do as I say_,"

Reid reluctantly complied, shivering as he removed his shirt from his already cold and injured body. Grey took the shirt from him and put it in his bag.

So much for his only act of kindness.

"Now, Dr. Reid, I am sure you have heard of the condition _hypergraphia_?" Grey stated softly. "Care to define it for me?"

Reid opened his mouth the words did not pass his throat; he was dehydrated and his oesophagus was raw from being forced to drink Carisoprodol-and-sedative laced water.

"I'm waiting, Dr. Reid," the older man's voice said coldly.

"Compulsive writing," he managed to choke out with a wince. It was much shorter than his usual explanations but it seemed to satisfy Grey.

"Yes, Dr. Reid. Now, I myself do not suffer from hypergraphia, but I have always wanted to know what writing on strange surfaces with strange materials would be like; have you?" Grey stated calmly, edging closer to the younger man.

Reid shook his head.

"I prefer pen and paper," Reid muttered hoarsely.

"I'm sure you do; now, raise your arms in front of you," Reid's captor said, gathering up some rope. Reid could hear the leer in his voice.

Reid allowed himself one more stretch of his aching limbs before doing so with a sigh.

Grey tied Reid's hands together and forced them above his head.

"You know, this could all be over with a single pill, _Spencer_," Grey muttered in his ear, using Reid's given name for the first time. The younger man could feel the warm droplets of saliva make contact with his earlobe.

Reid remained silent for a few moments.

"It could be, but it won't," Reid said with as much conviction as he could muster.

"Have it your way," Grey said, unknowingly reciting the last words of his son. He crouched over Reid, extending the lithe man's legs and tying them at the ankles so that his back was arched painfully against the floor, and begun.

--------------------

"Okay, what do we have so far?" Hotch asked, running his fingers through his hair, staring at the papers on his desk with agitation.

"I've released the photograph of Donald Grey to the press and it is currently being circulated and aired," JJ said briskly; as soon as she had found out, she had started helping in any way she could. "Garcia managed to find some more recent photos of him so it should help the public recognise him should he be seen,"

"Anything else?" Hotch pressed.

"There's also going to be a photograph of Reid released," JJ added in a slightly softer, less professional tone; she could hear the stress in Hotch's voice and knew that the man was blaming himself.

"Good; what have we got on the profile so far?" the ex-SWAT questioned.

"We already know the basics; male, Caucasian, between the ages of 35 and 50…" Morgan said, looking at his notes.

"He's confident; cocky. Because he thinks that what he is doing is right, he has no doubt in his mind that he will not be caught; he thinks what he is doing is a balance," Gideon stated. The man took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms; they were all tired but none of them were willing to admit it and get some rest.

"He's strong; dominant. He's used to getting his own way; should he be confronted, he proves the challenger 'wrong' to the nth degree," Elle said. Images of what Reid could be going through ran through her head and she sighed. The best thing they could do is catch the bastard before he did any severe damage.

"Could this be a sexual thing? Could he get off on the power?" Morgan theorised.

Elle shook her head.

"This isn't about sex," she stated firmly.

Gideon nodded.

"This is about getting even and doing what he believed will make his life right again," he stated. The profiler paused for a moment. "He probably feels guilty; his son had to be pretty desperate to rob a bank,"

Hotch nodded.

"Bank records show that Donald Grey severed a linked account with his son six weeks before the robbery," he said, looking at a copy of the record in question. He looked around his desk before picking up another piece of paper. "Grant's criminal record shows that he performed many small robberies, but when he was caught, his father paid bail,"

"Another reason to feel guilty," Gideon hypothesized. "If he had allowed his son to stay in jail, he would have never robbed the bank and he probably would have been put in a rehab program,"

"He's taking out revenge so he can place the blame and clear his own conscience," Morgan said. "Because he's put so much into this act of revenge, he believes it will balance everything out,"

"An eye for an eye," Gideon said, quoting Grey's letter.

--------------------

Reid bit his lip and clenched his eyes shut as Grey carved into the skin on his back. He could not shift to prevent the action; the only possible way of movement was upwards and a fraction to the left or right, all of which caused the wounds to either become deeper or dragged.

_W-O-R-T-H-L-E-S-S_ he felt along his left side, the top of the letters were facing outwards; warm blood trickled along his ribs and onto his stomach before reaching a certain point and making contact with the floor.

_F-R-E-A-K-O-F-N-A-T-U-R-E _was written along his right with the letters, again, facing outwards so that they were opposite to the other side. Reid bit his lip so hard he tasted coppery blood. Unbeknownst to him, tears of pain were running down his face.

Grey then took the knife and lowered it to the bottom of Reid's neck. He wove the blade with slow, even pressure around Reid's vertebrae; in and out, in and out from his neck to the base of his back. Then, he continued the process upwards, creating interlocking figure-eights. Grey's hand held an ice-skate; the knife was the blade and Dr. Spencer Reid's back was the ice.

Donald Grey cut Reid down with the blood-stained knife and stopped the recording, smirking into the camera. He only wished he could be in the room when the man who caused his son's death saw what was happening to the young agent.

The older man left the room with confidence and Reid in darkness and pain.

Spencer carefully stretched his body out; it was difficult to move his shoulders forward because of the position his body was in when the wounds occurred, but he knew that once they started to heal, it would be even worse. He forced his spine to curve forwards and brought his knees up to his chest, his ankles still held together; he could have tried to untie them, but he didn't. He gently touched the wounds he could reach easily and attempted to assess the damage. The wounds were neither severe nor mild. They would scar, but not badly due to the smooth edge of the blade.

Reid personally didn't know why Grey chose to whittle words into his skin; it wasn't like he would ever need a reminder of what had happened.

He hugged his legs tighter, trying to preserve some warmth; Grey hadn't given him his shirt back.

--------------------

**Author's note: **Yes! 'Tis me! Sorry I took so long to update! I _really_ appreciate the reviews so please keep them coming; they help me update faster! They really do!

It's a little short, and I'm sorry about that, but it _is_ 4:20am!

Please let me know what you think, I appreciate any feedback or _constructive_ criticism; no flames please.

Also, I'm an Aussie, so I may use terms more commonly used in Australia rather than America, but hopefully that won't occur often and it shouldn't affect the story at all; I won't say "Melbourne" instead of "Quantico" or anything to the same effect.

Anyways, happy reading!

I will update as soon as humanly possible!

°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.° _Missing Fairy_ °.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°


	5. Watch

"_**Drawn to Revenge" **chapter 5- **Watch**_

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds_ or its characters except for the villain. No profits were made in the work of fiction._

--------------------

The team had started sniping at each other when no more leads had come up so Gideon, playing the role of father-figure, made the entire team, including himself, take an hour break in the coffee room; they needed to function at full capacity which they could not do whilst frazzled.

Everyone returned to their desks with a little more confidence and energy (after some coffee) and they had sat down, at least attempting to relax; truth be told, 'relaxing' wasn't an accurate term, but at least they had made an effort.

When Hotch got back to his desk he saw a pile of mail sitting on the surface and he slowly made his way through the numerous letters, his mind not really on the task at hand, his eyes merely skimming the letters for key words. Eventually he found a soft, express delivery package. Curious, he torn one end open and out fell…  
a bloodstained shirt and a sheet of paper. It took him a few moments for his mind to even begin to comprehend what was in front of him.

"What's wrong?" Gideon asked, having watched him, but was unable to see exactly what Hotch was looking at due to objects obscuring his sight.

Hotch stared blankly at the objects before covering his hand with a tissue, to avoid contamination, and lifting up the shirt so the others could see.

"My God…" Elle murmured; her eyes were wide.

Once everyone had got over the initial shock, they sprung into action.

"Elle, take that shirt down to forensics, pronto," Gideon ordered, pulling out a plastic bag to place the shirt in.

Elle left quickly.

He lowered and softened his voice slightly. "Hotch, read the letter,"

Hotch stared at the paper for a few moments before allowing his mind to analyse the words in front of him.

**_ Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,_**

I informed you of this previously; I would contact you. Now I have done so and I expect you to do this one small thing for me.

Check your email. You will find a message with a rather large attachment; open it immediately.

By the way, I sent this from a public computer using someone else's email address- you didn't expect me to do any less, surely.

You will see the conditions your young agent is in and how it will not be long before you will need to start looking at others' résumés. I doubt any other applicants will be as eloquent as Doctor Spencer Reid, but one can only hope.

I hope you like the new colour of Doctor Spencer Reid's shirt; I thought it suited his complexion quite well.

I will be in touch.

Donald Grey.

Hotch passed the letter to Gideon numbly as Elle returned and froze momentarily at the look on Hotch's face.

"Go to your email," Gideon said firmly after reading the letter.

Hotch did so without complaint, his mind still not grasping what was happening.

Sure enough, once all the emails had been processed, an email had come through with a huge attachment. Hotch held his breath as he double clicked on the icon. Once he had done so, the video player on his computer sprung up and started playing the file. Everyone stood around in shock at what they were seeing.

The youngest member of their team was bound, bloody and cold. They watched as Grey taunted him and showed off his knife as though it were his manhood.

Their somewhat neutral faces became that of horror when they saw the older man start slicing into Reid's back. They saw his jaw clench and his body stiffen; he was powerless to fight back. They watched as the blood trickled down his body and onto the floor as it began to pool and slowly darken and become congealed. Hotch distinctly saw tears in Elle's eyes; he looked around at JJ, who had remained quiet the entire time, and saw the same thing. Gideon's jaw was set, his mouth was in a stern line and his eyes were blazing. Morgan was staring blankly at the screen, his eyes wide; it was rather unnerving to see him in such a state.

Hotch looked on with mixed emotions. He knew that it wasn't his fault; Grey had done this as a feeble attempt to clear his own conscience, but he couldn't help but feel the guilt that was churning around in his stomach, alongside the anger.

Gideon seemed to know what was going through his head.

"This isn't your fault," he said firmly.

Hotch gave a short nod, not trusting his voice, and cleared his throat.

"Get that down to Garcia, she might be able to get something out of it which could lead us to a location. If anything, she should be able to get the location of the public computer so we can narrow the search area," he delegated.

The others nodded and complied instantly, on auto-pilot from that point on, trying to make themselves believe that this was just another case.

--------------------

The first thing Reid felt when he awoke was the pounding pain in his head, which surprised him, considering the havoc his torso, and more specifically, his back had been through.

_ "But I'm still alive,"_ he thought to himself. He even allowed a very small smile to tweak the edges of his mouth when he realised he was still one up on Grey; he still did not have the desire to swallow the pill.

A chill ran up his spine and caused the tender area on his back to complain. He winced and tried to ignore it, huddling into himself as he attempted to conserve body heat.

The wounds on his back had scabbed over and pulled painfully if he moved too strenuously; he hoped that not too much more damage would be focused on his back until…

Until when?

Until someone found him?

Until he took the pill?

Until he died?

Until _when_?

Spencer's thought were interrupted by light filtering in once again; he squinted into the light and habitually tucked his hair behind his ears.

Grey entered, without a single word, and set up his tripod and video camera. He made a few adjustments to the height and settings before the red light went on with a small click and began recording.

The older man then exited the room momentarily and returned with a large fan and a bucket. He gave a small, almost unnoticeable leer to Reid before throwing the ice water on him.

Reid began to shiver instantly as his body tried its best to heat itself, the only upside being some of it getting into his mouth, lessening the thirst, if just for a little while, though he coughed slightly as he gasped from the cold. He curled into a tighter ball, rested his forehead on his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around his legs so that each hand was holding the other's wrist. He then heard a loud click from outside the room and felt air pushed onto his skin forcefully. He looked up at the angry, whirring fan and glared at Grey as he re-entered the room.

"The fan turns on and off from the outside," he said nonchalantly. "You will not be able to turn it off. Also, touch it _or_ my camera and you will be very, _very_ sorry," and with that he left the room.

Spencer was shaking more visibly now and moved around the room, trying to avoid the fan's blast; it was placed too close to the wall to get behind it, but Reid quickly figured out the angle at which he would avoid a majority of the air.

He crawled across the room until that point, but realised that was what Grey was planning the entire time; the camera was pointed directly at him, the red light glaring at him, unblinkingly.

Reid winced as another shot of pain travelled through the carvings on his back and he, once again, curled up in an attempt to feel warm again.

It didn't work very well.

--------------------

"Goddess of the virtual domain, speak and I shall turn to hear," Garcia said; Hotch rang her to see if she had discovered anything. He noticed that her tone seemed more contrived than usual.

"Garcia, did you get anything off the email?"

"Sure did; it came from a local internet café called _Netta-chino_," she said with a slight scoff at the name.

"…Thanks," Hotch said, sighing inwardly as he ran his fingers though his hair in frustration, as he hung up. _"This is ridiculous…"_ he thought to himself irately.

He noticed that Elle and Morgan had just entered the bullpen.

"Get anything?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"We spoke to a few of Reid's neighbours," Elle said.

"All they heard was some smashing and a thump," Morgan continued.

"And none of them phoned the police?" Hotch said in disbelief.

"They tried; they haven't had any power or phone usage until about nine this morning when the maintenance guy came and re-connected everything. All the circuits had been disconnected," Morgan explained.

"He put a lot of time and effort into this," Elle stated.

"Wouldn't you if you thought it would clean your guilty conscience? If it would turn around and justify the death of your child?" Gideon said as he entered and sat tiredly in his office chair in front of his desk. He rotated the chair slightly so he could get a clear view of everyone from behind his reading glasses.

Hotch thought about it and he couldn't see himself torturing another human being the way Reid was. Then again, he had never been in that position and he hoped he never would.

"Don't worry," Gideon told him softly. "We'll find him; he's stronger than any of us give him credit for, we'll all get through this,"

Hotch nodded and knew that Gideon's words were true, but still could not convince himself to a full extent.

Reid had to survive, or Hotch would never forgive himself.

--------------------

**Author's note: **It's been _so_ long and I'm _so_ incredibly sorry! I've had so much work to do plus examinations and… I know it's no excuse, but please accept my sincerest apologies. Also, because it's been so long, I've decided to post this without a beta, so let me know of any major errors and I will fix!

Anyway, what did you think? This chapter was a long time coming, eh? I hope I haven't disappointed!

I've really appreciated all the feedback I've had!

Here are the names of my loyal reviewers- I love you!

● Anaria  
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Once again, really sorry it's taken so long!

Love you all!

°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.° _Missing Fairy_ °.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°


	6. Fear

"_**Drawn to Revenge" **chapter 6- **Fear**_

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds_ or its characters except for Donald Grey (the villain). No profits were made in the work of fiction._

--------------------

Reid was freezing; so cold he had gone beyond the point of sensation. He was numb, technically, yet somehow _everything_ hurt.

The fan had been going non-stop and continued to bite against his skin despite his position in the room. His body shook as it tried to heat itself up and could not adjust to the temperature in the room.

He was slowly starving and dehydrating. He had stopped feeling _hungry_, by this stage, but his stomach muscles were cramping and he was feeling perpetually ill and weakened. The lack of food and water had also given him a headache which was much more prominent in the cold room.

He was becoming more drained and he fought to stay awake, knowing he needed to stay alert, not only for his own peace of mind, but if Grey came back, he wanted to be aware of his presence.

But he was _so_ tired.

His eyelids drooped and his mind went fuzzy for a few moments before he shook himself awake and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, taking away some dried blood from a cut near his eyebrow.

He winced slightly and leaned against the wall, the chilled surface against his burning back was not bothering him too much, to his surprise; he couldn't believe that any form of warmth would actually be a negative thing, but he was mistaken.

His head dropped back against the wall and he closed his eyes; he had gone beyond the point of fatigue and instantly fell into the altered-state-of-consciousness known as sleep.

He was awoken by a loud slam, later; it could have been anywhere from a few moments to a few hours; he had lost his sense of time, his body clock was warped… and he _hated it._

Spencer Reid rarely said he _hated_ anything; _disliked immensely_, perhaps, but _hate_? It was something new.

He _hated_ the fact he had lost track of the days he had been there.

He _hated_ the fact he couldn't fight back against anything Grey was doing to him.

He _hated_ the fact he might never see his friends or family again.

Donald Grey's silhouette stood out from the light behind him as he took his stance in the doorway. He was carrying chains, by the sound of it, as they chinked in his hands at the slightest movement.

Reid felt his stomach clench.

His captor stood over him a few moments before dropping the chains, and what appeared to be shackles, to the ground with a clatter. He rolled a backpack over his shoulder, kneeling down, and sat it in front of him, bringing out another bottle of water and another vial of the crystallised substance known as Carisoprodol.

"I believe you know the procedure, Doctor Reid?" Grey said in a snarling manner, mixing the water and the drug together.

Reid gave the slightest nod of the head but gave no inclination that he was going to assist the inevitable process in any way.

"Well then, head back," the elder man said as though attempting to coax a small child to swallow cough syrup.

Spencer didn't move his head but glared in a somewhat defiant manner at him through the hair which had fallen in his eyes.

"You aren't making this easy for yourself, you know?" Grey sighed, trying to come across as though he sympathised with his hostage's plight, although is sounded more patronising than anything.

Repeating the process used earlier to get the drug into Reid's system, Grey forced Spencer's head back and forced him to swallow the mixture; the event almost caught Spencer's gag reflex, but the water was so soothing against his parched mouth and throat.

"Didn't put up much of a fight, did you?" Grey smirked, putting the empty bottle back in his bag.

Reid instantly felt a sense of guilt and self-loathing flow through his body; how could he have let that happen? He wasn't restrained, he could have fought… but he was too busy _quenching his thirst_?

Grey leered at the down-cast head of his victim; he knew _exactly_ what to say and was relishing in the power he had over the younger man.

He grabbed Reid's forearms and attached shackles to the wrists, wrapping more chains around them, securing them tightly with a padlock. He did a similar thing with his captive's ankles, leaving enough space between them to shuffle.

Donald Grey got up and turned off the video camera which had been watching the scene before walking back over to Reid and hoisting him up roughly by the upper arm. Spencer stumbled into Grey slightly, because of the heavy chains and the drug in his system, who pushed him into the wall aggressively.

"Be – more – careful," Grey growled, yanking him away from the wall and pulling him along.

Spencer was shocked; previous encounters had always been precise, planned and well-orchestrated, never raw anger. The question playing on the young man's mind was _what side of Grey was the act?_

Grey smiled to himself at the look of confusion in Reid's eyes; he had always been a good actor and, now, he was using it to further fuel his plight. He _might_ had felt a little sorry for Reid, had the circumstances been different, but Special Agent Aaron Hotchner _needed_ to know what it felt like to lose a son.

Reid was pulled along a stone corridor into another room which was plain, cold and contained a long table in the middle of it. He felt his body become weaker as the drugs in his system took effect and he was fighting to stay upright.

Grey lifted Spencer over his shoulder and placed him on the table, which was coated with low-grain sandpaper. The raw wounds on his back were irritated and he could feel some scabs separate from his skin and start to bleed and sting. Grey grabbed Reid's right wrist with unnecessary force to lock it in the shackle attached to the bench. He repeated the process with his other three limbs before walking to the head of the table and looked down on Reid who was struggling to keep his bleary eyes open. Placing a hand on either side, Grey straightened Spencer's head and pulled a hinged restraint across his forehead and locked it in place on the other side. The metal was coated with some sort of dense foam which allowed such a small amount of movement, it was barely noticeable.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Grey said ominously, walking towards the door. He reached besides the frame and turned up the brightness of the light in the room and left, leaving Reid's over-active mind (despite the drugs in his system) to imagine what lay in store once Grey returned.

--------------------

Something was waiting to be noticed.

Garcia had watched that video so many times and something was crying out for her to see but somehow it just wouldn't click.

"_Okay, go through the details step by step…_" she thought to herself, going through the recording at half its normal speed. "_Reid, shackled_," she grimaced. "_Euh… grey, stone walls, no natural light, the light provided is shotty…_" it was there, she knew it was there… "_Damp walls… wait a second…_" She played back the recording at full speed from the beginning and smacked herself in the forehead. It was so obvious, she hadn't seen it.

She quickly dialled the main office.

"Morgan," the slightly frustrated voice said.

"Hey, Sweets, guess what? I have info for you," she grinned into her head piece.

She could almost hear Morgan sit up straighter.

"Really? What?"

"Well, you know the internet café with the corny name? You know the address of the guy who had his email used –who has an alibi? They are both within half a mile of each other," the tech said, sounding rather proud and as though she was building up to something.

Morgan sighed.

"We know that already," he said, deflated, slumping back in his chair.

"Ah, yes, but did you know that there are several old wineries near both of them? Many of them out of use?" she grinned into her headset.

"What do you mean?" Morgan pressed, fidgeting.

"The room Reid is in appears to be an old, empty wine cellar; there's no natural light and he's definitely underground from the foundation and wall braces holding the place upright," Garcia explained, setting up a frame of the video where all the features she mentioned were highlighted with red circles. She emailed it to Morgan. "See?"

Morgan examined the frame, nodding subconsciously.

"Thanks, sweetie," he said sincerely, a small smile unknowingly gracing his lips.

"Any time, day or night, muffin; keep me posted!" Garcia said, feeling much more like her old self now that she had assisted in some way.

She missed Reid.

--------------------

The waiting was worse that Reid had initially thought.

He thought he might had been able to get at least some sleep, uncomfortable as it may be, but the position he was in and the unquenched anxiety running through his body would not allow his defences to drop.

Due to the fact he was so fatigued, there were moments we would fall asleep, just for a moment or two, but then his mind would jolt and bring him back to reality.

However, the worst thing about this period of time was how distinct the pains in his stomach from hunger had become, save for the palliative effect of the Carisoprodol, which stopped the headache and stomach pains from being as intense.

After a few hours of him lying there, the effects of the drug began to wear off and he was able to touch the tips of his fingers with his thumb more accurately. Unfortunately, the analgesic effects also wore off and the pain throughout his body became more pronounced yet again.

Spencer heard the door open and footsteps head towards him. He involuntarily stiffened and waited for what was going to happen with closed eyes.

He heard Grey give a snort of laughter and, despite the situation, Reid was embarrassed.

"Open your eyes," Grey ordered, staring down at him. Spencer complied, but winced into the light. "See this?" he said as a rhetorical question. He had a small, round pill held between his thumb and his forefinger. "Care to give me a definition of Methylphenidate?" Grey smirked at him.

Reid closed his eyes into the light; it hurt his head.

"Methylphenidate is a prescribed stimulant used in cases of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, brain injury and drowsiness in narcolepsy and chronic fatigue syndrome," Reid explained monotonously, not opening his mouth too much, his headache making him feel nauseous. Logically he knew he could not vomit for there was nothing he could bring up, but logic was not playing a part in his mind processors at that point in time.

"You really are a walking encyclopaedia, aren't you?" Grey spat in a demeaning tone. He grabbed a bottle of water. "We can do this one of two ways; either I put this pill in your mouth with some water or I put it in your mouth and wait for it to dissolve. Either way, it's getting in your system, understood?"

Spencer made a small, almost inaudible noise in his throat, not committing one way or the other. In his head, he was weighing up his options; it was not likely Grey would give him a sedative in the water if he was giving him a stimulant to take as one would defeat the purpose of the other and killing him with a form of poison would go off-script. Plus, if he took it with water, he would at least get a little more liquid in his system.

When he looked up at Grey, it was as though his captor had read his mind.

"That's what I thought," he said insidiously with a small sneer. "Open your mouth and make sure you swallow quickly. We wouldn't want you choking to death, now would we?"

--------------------

**Author's note: **

Hey! Thank you so much for putting up with the wait, but I wanted to make this chapter a little longer to make up for it! Plus, I've been doing my research!

I apologise for any spelling errors, but this has not been beta'd. If you find any major ones, please let me know and I'll fix them as soon as possible. I'm usually pretty good at any spelling and grammar points, but it can be difficult to look at one's work objectively and see the mistakes.

I'd like to give a huge thank you to my great friend, **danielteivel**, for letting me bounce ideas off you! You're a wealth of knowledge! Thank you so much!

A special mention to **Anaria** who has been a great reviewer and, more importantly, a terrific friend; thanks sweetie!

And I can't go without mentioning **Nation El-Diablo**, who is always good at making me smile. Thanks Hun!

And to all my other reviewers; I will give each and every one of you a mention in two chapter's time. Your reviews have driven me to write more and help get me through and writer's block!

°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.° _Missing Fairy_ °.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°¤°.¸¸.·´¯»«´¯·.¸.°


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